My Father
The memory of my father is wrapped up in
white paper, like sandwiches taken for a day at work.
Just as a magician takes towers and rabbits
out of his hat, he drew love from his small body,
and the rivers of his hands
overflowed with good deeds.
Poet: Yehuda Amichai
read: 7218 times Rating: Date: 05 April, 2008
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